Electra

Sophocles

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Characters in the Play

Orestes, son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra

Electra, Chrysothemis, sisters of Orestes

An Old Man, formerly the Paedagogus or Attendant of Orestes

Clytemnestra

Aegisthus

Chorus of Women of Mycenae

Mute Persons

Pylades, son of Strophius, King of Crisa, the friend Of Orestes.

A handmaid of Clytemnestra. Two attendants of Orestes

[SCENE:— At Mycenae, before the palace of the Pelopidae. It is morning and the new-risen sun is
bright. The Paedagogus enters on the left of the spectators, accompanied by the two youths,
Orestes and Pylades.

Paedagogus
Son of him who led our hosts at Troy of old, son of Agamemnon! — now thou mayest behold with thine eyes all that thy
soul hath desired so long. There is the ancient Argos of thy yearning, — that hallowed scene whence the gadfly drove
the daughter of Inachus; and there, Orestes, is the Lycean Agora, named from the wolf-slaying god; there, on the left,
Hera’s famous temple; and in this place to which we have come, deem that thou seest Mycenae rich in gold, with the
house of the Pelopidae there, so often stained with bloodshed; whence I carried thee of yore, from the slaying of thy
father, as thy kinswoman, thy sister, charged me; and saved thee, and reared thee up to manhood, to be the avenger of
thy murdered sire.

Now, therefore, Orestes, and thou, best of friends, Pylades, our plans must be laid quickly; for lo, already the
sun’s bright ray is waking the songs of the birds into clearness, and the dark night of stars is spent. Before, then,
anyone comes forth from the house, take counsel; seeing that the time allows not of delay, but is full ripe for
deeds.

Orestes
True friend and follower, how well dost thou prove thy loyalty to our house! As a steed of generous race, though old,
loses not courage in danger, but pricks his ear, even so thou urgest us forward, and art foremost in our support. I
will tell thee, then, what I have determined; listen closely to my words, and correct me, if I miss the mark in
aught.

When I went to the Pythian oracle, to learn how I might avenge my father on his murderers, Phoebus gave me the
response which thou art now to hear:— that alone, and by stealth, without aid of arms or numbers, I should snatch the
righteous vengeance of my hand. Since, then, the god spake to us on this wise, thou must go into yonder house, when
opportunity gives thee entrance, and learn all that is passing there, so that thou mayest report to us from sure
knowledge. Thine age, and the lapse of time, will prevent them from recognising thee; they will never suspect who thou
art, with that silvered hair. Let thy tale be that thou art a Phocian stranger, sent by Phanoteus; for he is the
greatest of their allies. Tell them, and confirm it with thine oath, that Orestes hath perished by a fatal chance, —
hurled at the Pythian games from his rapid chariot; be that the substance of thy story.

We, meanwhile, will first crown my father’s tomb, as the god enjoined, with drink-offerings and the luxuriant
tribute of severed hair; then come back, bearing in our hands an urn of shapely bronze,-now hidden in the brushwood, as
I think thou knowest, — so to gladden them with the false tidings that this my body is no more, but has been consumed
with fire and turned to ashes. Why should the omen trouble me, when by a feigned death I find life indeed, and win
renown? I trow, no word is ill-omened, if fraught with gain. Often ere now have I seen wise men die in vain report;
then, when they return home, they are held in more abiding honour: as I trust that from this rumour I also shall emerge
in radiant life, and yet shine like a star upon my foes.

O my fatherland, and ye gods of the land, receive me with good fortune in this journey, — and ye also, halls of my
fathers, for I come with divine mandate to cleanse you righteously; send me not dishonoured from the land, but grant
that I may rule over my possessions, and restore my house!

Enough; — be it now thy care, old man, to go and heed thy task; and we twain will go forth; for so occasion bids,
chief ruler of every enterprise for men.

Electra [within
Ah me, ah me!

Paedagogus
Hark, my son, — from the doors, methought, came the sound of some handmaid moaning within.

Orestes
Can it be the hapless Electra? Shall we stay here, and listen to her laments?

Paedagogus
No, no: before all else, let us seek to obey the command of Loxias, and thence make a fair beginning, by pouring
libations to thy sire; that brings victory within our grasp, and gives us the mastery in all that we do.

[Exeunt Paedagogus on the spectators’ left, Orestes and Pylades the right. — Enter Electra, from
the house. She is meanly clad.

Electra [chanting

systema

O thou pure sunlight, and thou air, earth’s canopy, how often have ye heard the strains of my lament, the wild blows
dealt against this bleeding breast, when dark night fails! And my wretched couch in yonder house of woe knows well, ere
now, how I keep the watches of the night, — how often I bewail my hapless sire; to whom deadly Ares gave not of his
gifts in a strange land, but my mother, and her mate Aegisthus, cleft his head with murderous axe, as woodmen fell an
oak. And for this no plaint bursts from any lip save mine, when thou, my father, hath died a death so cruel and so
piteous!

antisystema

But never will I cease from dirge and sore lament, while I look on the trembling rays of the bright stars, or on
this light of day; but like the nightingale, slayer of her offspring, I will wail without ceasing, and cry aloud to
all, here, at the doors of my father.

O home of Hades and Persephone! O Hermes of the shades! potent Curse, and ye, dread daughters of the gods, Erinyes,
— Ye who behold when a life is reft by violence, when a bed is dishonoured by stealth, — come, help me, avenge the
murder of my sire, — and send to me my brother; for I have no more the strength to bear up alone against the load of
grief that weighs me down.

[As Electra finishes her lament, the Chorus of
Women of Mycenae enter. The following lines between Electra and the Chorus are chanted responsively.

Chorus

strophe 1

Ah, Electra, child of a wretched mother, why art thou ever pining thus in ceaseless lament for Agamemnon, who long
ago was wickedly ensnared by thy false mother’s wiles, and betrayed to death by dastardly hand? Perish the author of
that deed, if I may utter such prayer!

But never by laments or prayers shalt thou recall thy sire from that lake of Hades to which all must pass. Nay,
thine is a fatal course of grief, passing ever from due bounds into a cureless sorrow; wherein there is no deliverance
from evils. Say, wherefore art thou enamoured of misery?

Electra
Foolish is the child who forgets a parent’s piteous death. No, dearer to my soul is the mourner that laments for Itys,
Itys, evermore, that bird distraught with grief, the messenger of Zeus. Ah, queen of sorrow, Niobe, thee I deem divine,
— thee, who evermore weepest in thy rocky tomb!

Chorus

strophe 2

Not to thee alone of mortals, my daughter, hath come any sorrow which thou bearest less calmly than those within,
thy kinswomen and sisters, Chrysothemis and Iphianassa,I who still live, — as he, too, lives, sorrowing in a secluded
youth, yet happy in that this famous realm of Mycenae shall one day welcome him to his heritage, when the kindly
guidance of Zeus shall have brought him to this land, Orestes.

Electra
Yes, I wait for him with unwearied longing, as I move on my sad path from day to day, unwed and childless, bathed in
tears, bearing that endless doom of woe; but he forgets all that he has suffered and heard. What message comes to me,
that is not belied? He is ever yearning to be with us, but, though he yearns, he never resolves.

Chorus

antistrophe 2

Courage, my daughter, courage; great still in heaven is Zeus, who sees and governs all: leave thy bitter quarrel to
him; forget not thy foes, but refrain from excess of wrath against them; for Time is god who makes rough ways smooth.
Not heedless is the son of Agamemnon, who dwells by Crisa’s pastoral shore; not heedless is the god who reigns by
Acheron.

Electra
Nay, the best part of life hath passed away from me in hopelessness, and I have no strength left; I, who am pining away
without children, — whom no loving champion shields, — but, like some despised alien, I serve in the halls of my
father, clad in this mean garb, and standing at a meagre board.

Chorus

strophe 3

Piteous was the voice heard at his return, and piteous, as thy sire lay on the festal couch, when the straight,
swift blow was dealt him with the blade of bronze. Guile was the plotter, Lust the slayer, dread parents of a dreadful
shape; whether it was mortal that wrought therein, or god.

Electra
O that bitter day, bitter beyond all that have come to me; O that night, O the horrors of that unutterable feast, the
ruthless deathstrokes that my father saw from the hands of twain, who took my life captive by treachery, who doomed me
to woe! May the great god of Olympus give them sufferings in requital, and never may their splendour bring them joy,
who have done such deeds!

Chorus

antistrophe 3

Be advised to say no more; canst thou not see what conduct it is which already plunges thee so cruelly in self-made
miseries? Thou hast greatly aggravated thy troubles, ever breeding wars with thy sullen soul; but such strife should
not be pushed to a conflict with the strong.

Electra
I have been forced to it, — forced by dread causes; I know my own passion, it escapes me not; but, seeing that the
causes are so dire, will never curb these frenzied plaints, while life is in me. Who indeed, ye kindly sisterhood, who
that thinks aright, would deem that any word of solace could avail me? Forbear, forbear, my comforters! Such ills must
be numbered with those which have no cure; I can never know a respite from my sorrows, or a limit to this wailing.

Chorus

epode

At least it is in love, like a true-hearted mother, that I dissuade thee from adding misery to miseries.

Electra
But what measure is there in my wretchedness? Say, how can it be right to neglect the dead? Was that impiety ever born
in mortal? Never may I have praise of such; never when my lot is cast in pleasant places, may I cling to selfish ease,
or dishonour my sire by restraining the wings of shrill lamentation!

For if the hapless dead is to lie in dust and nothingness, while the slayers pay not with blood for blood, all
regard for man, all fear of heaven, will vanish from the earth.

Leader of the Chorus
I came, my child, in zeal for thy welfare no less than for mine own; but if I speak not well, then be it as thou wilt;
for we will follow thee.

Electra
I am ashamed, my friends, if ye deem me too impatient for my oft complaining; but, since a hard constraint forces me to
this, bear with me. How indeed could any woman of noble nature refrain, who saw the calamities of a father’s house, as
I see them by day and night continually, not fading, but in the summer of their strength? I, who, first, from the
mother that bore me have found bitter enmity; next, in mine own home I dwell with my father’s murderers; they rule over
me, and with them it rests to give or to withhold what I need.

And then think what manner of days I pass, when I see Aegisthus sitting on my father’s throne, wearing the robes
which he wore, and pouring libations at the hearth where he slew my sire; and when I see the outrage that crowns all,
the murderer in our father’s bed at our wretched mother’s side, if mother she should be called, who is his wife; but so
hardened is she that she lives with that accursed one, fearing no Erinys; nay, as if exulting in her deeds, having
found the day on which she treacherously slew my father of old, she keeps it with dance and song, and month by month
sacrifices sheep to the gods who have wrought her deliverance.

But I, hapless one, beholding it, weep and pine in the house, and bewail the unholy feast named after my sire, —
weep to myself alone; since I may not even indulge my grief to the full measure of my yearning. For this woman, in
professions so noble, loudly upbraids me with such taunts as these: ‘Impious and hateful girl, hast thou alone lost a
father, and is there no other mourner in the world? An evil doom be thine, and may the gods infernal give thee no
riddance from thy present laments.’

Thus she insults; save when any one brings her word that Orestes is coming: then, infuriated, she comes up to me,
and cries; — ‘Hast not thou brought this upon me? Is not this deed thine, who didst steal Orestes from my hands, and
privily convey him forth? Yet be sure that thou shalt have thy due reward.’ So she shrieks; and, aiding her, the
renowned spouse at her side is vehement in the same strain, — that abject dastard, that utter pest, who fights his
battles with the help of women. But I, looking ever for Orestes to come and end these woes, languish in my misery.
Always intending to strike a blow, he has worn out every hope that I could conceive. In such a case, then, friends,
there is no room for moderation or for reverence; in sooth, the stress of ills leaves no choice but to follow evil
ways.

Leader
Say, is Aegisthus near while thou speakest thus, or absent from home?

Electra
Absent, certainly; do not think that I should have come to the doors, if he had been near; but just now he is
afield.

Leader
Might I converse with thee more freely, if this is so?

Electra
He is not here, so put thy question; what wouldst thou?

Leader
I ask thee, then, what sayest thou of thy brother? Will he come soon, or is he delaying? I fain would know.

Electra
He promises to come; but he never fulfils the promise.

Leader
Yea, a man will pause on the verge of a great work.

Electra
And yet I saved him without pausing.

Leader
Courage; he is too noble to fail his friends.

Electra
I believe it; or I should not have lived so long.

Leader
Say no more now; for I see thy sister coming from the house, Chrysothemis, daughter of the same sire and mother, with
sepulchral gifts in her hands, such as are given to those in the world below.

[Chrysothemis enters from the palace. She is richly
dressed.

Chrysothemis
Why, sister, hast thou come forth once more to declaim thus at the public doors? Why wilt thou not learn with any lapse
of time to desist from vain indulgence of idle wrath? Yet this I know, — that I myself am — grieved at our plight;
indeed, could I find the strength, I would show what love I bear them. But now, in these troubled waters, ’tis best,
methinks, to shorten sail; I care not to seem active, without the power to hurt. And would that thine own conduct were
the same! Nevertheless, right is on the side of thy choice, not of that which I advise; but if I am to live in freedom,
our rulers must be obeyed in all things.

Electra
Strange indeed, that thou, the daughter of such a sire as thine, shouldst forget him, and think only of thy mother! All
thy admonitions to me have been taught by her; no word is thine own. Then take thy choice, — to be imprudent; or
prudent, but forgetful of thy friends: thou, who hast just said that, couldst thou find the strength, thou wouldst show
thy hatred of them; yet, when I am doing my utmost to avenge my sire, thou givest no aid, but seekest to turn thy
sister from her deed.

Does not this crown our miseries with cowardice? For tell me, — Or let me tell thee, — what I should gain by ceasing
from these laments? Do not live? — miserably, I know, yet well enough for me. And I vex them, thus rendering honour to
the dead, if pleasure can be felt in that world. But thou, who tellest me of thy hatred, hatest in word alone, while in
deeds thou art with the slayers of thy sire. I, then, would never yield to them, though I were promised the gifts which
now make thee proud; thine be the richly-spread table and the life of luxury. For me, be it food enough that I do not
wound mine own conscience; I covet not such privilege as thine, — nor wouldst thou, wert thou wise. But now, when thou
mightest be called daughter of the noblest father among men, be called the child of thy mother; so shall thy baseness
be most widely seen, in betrayal of thy dead sire and of thy kindred.

Leader
No angry word, I entreat! For both of you there is good in what is urged, — if thou, Electra, wouldst learn to profit
by her counsel, and she, again, by thine.

Chrysothemis
For my part, friends, I am not wholly unused to her discourse; nor should I have touched upon this theme, had I not
heard that she was threatened with a dread doom, which shall restrain her from her long-drawn laments.

Electra
Come, declare it then, this terror! If thou canst tell me of aught worse than my present lot, I will resist no
more.

Chrysothemis
Indeed, I will tell thee all that I know. They purpose, if thou wilt not cease from these laments, to send thee where
thou shalt never look upon the sunlight, but pass thy days in a dungeon beyond the borders of this land, there to chant
thy dreary strain. Bethink thee, then, and do not blame me hereafter, when the blow hath fallen; now is the time to be
wise.

Chrysothemis
’Tis said that she beheld our sire, restored to the sunlight, at her side once more; then he took the sceptre, — Once
his own, but now borne by Aegisthus, — and planted it at the hearth; and thence a fruitful bough sprang upward,
wherewith the whole land of Mycenae was overshadowed. Such was the tale that I heard told by one who was present when
she declared her dream to the Sun-god. More than this I know not, — save that she sent me by reason of that fear. So by
the gods of our house I beseech thee, hearken to me, and be not ruined by folly! For if thou repel me now, thou wilt
come back to seek me in thy trouble.

Electra
Nay, dear sister, let none of these things in thy hands touch the tomb; for neither custom nor piety allows thee to
dedicate gifts or bring libations to our sire from a hateful wife. No — to the winds with them or bury them deep in the
earth, where none of them shall ever come near his place of rest; but, when she dies, let her find these treasures laid
up for her below.

And were she not the most hardened of all women, she would never have sought to pour these offerings of enmity on
the grave of him whom she slew. Think now if it is likely that the dead in the tomb should take these honours kindly at
her hand, who ruthlessly slew him, like a foeman, and mangled him, and, for ablution, wiped off the blood-stains on his
head? Canst thou believe that these things which thou bringest will absolve her of the murder?

It is not possible. No, cast these things aside; give him rather a lock cut from thine own tresses, and on my part,
hapless that I am,-scant gifts these, but my best, — this hair, not glossy with unguents, and this girdle, decked with
no rich ornament. Then fall down and pray that he himself may come in kindness from the world below, to aid us against
our foes; and that the young Orestes may live to set his foot upon his foes in victorious might, that henceforth we may
crown our father’s tomb with wealthier hands than those which grace it now.

I think, indeed, I think that he also had some part in sending her these appalling dreams; still, sister, do this
service, to help thyself, and me, and him, that most beloved of all men, who rests in the realm of Hades, thy sire and
mine.

Chrysothemis
I will. When a duty is clear, reason forbids that two voices should contend, and claims the hastening of the deed.
Only, when I attempt this task, aid me with your silence, I entreat you, my friends; for, should my mother hear of it,
methinks I shall yet have cause to rue my venture.

[Chrysothemis departs, to take the offerings to Agamemnon’s
grave.

Chorus [singing

strophe

If I am not an erring seer and one who fails in wisdom, justice, that hath sent the presage, will come, triumphant
in her righteous strength, — will come ere long, my child, to avenge. There is courage in my heart, through those new
tidings of the dream that breathes comfort. Not forgetful is thy sire, the lord of Hellas; not forgetful is the
two-edged axe of bronze that struck the blow of old, and slew him with foul cruelty.

antistrophe

The Erinys of untiring feet, who is lurking in her dread ambush, will come, as with the march and with the might of
a great host. For wicked ones have been fired with passion that hurried them to a forbidden bed, to accursed bridals,
to a marriage stained with guilt of blood. Therefore am I sure that the portent will not fail to bring woe upon the
partners in crime. Verily mortals cannot read the future in fearful dreams or oracles, if this vision of the night find
not due fulfilment.

epode

O chariot-race of Pelops long ago, source of many a sorrow, what weary troubles hast thou brought upon this land!
For since Myrtilus sank to rest beneath the waves, when a fatal and cruel hand hurled him to destruction out of the
golden car, this house was never yet free from misery and violence.

[Clytemnestra enters from the palace.

Clytemnestra
At large once more, it seems, thou rangest, — for Aegisthus is not here, who always kept thee at least from passing the
gates, to shame thy friends. But now, since he is absent, thou takest no heed of me, though thou hast said of me
oft-times, and to many, that I am a bold and lawless tyrant, who insults thee and thine. I am guilty of no insolence; I
do but return the taunts that I often hear from thee.

Thy father — this is thy constant pretext — was slain by me. Yes, by me — I know it well; it admits of no denial;
for justice slew him, and not I alone, — justice, whom it became thee to support, hadst thou been right-minded; seeing
that this father of thine, whom thou art ever lamenting, was the one man of the Greeks who had the heart to sacrifice
thy sister to the gods — he, the father, who had not shared the mother’s pangs.

Come, tell me now, wherefore, or to please whom, did he sacrifice her? To please the Argives, thou wilt say? Nay,
they had no right to slay my daughter. Or if, forsooth, it was to screen his brother Menelaus that he slew my child,
was he not to pay me the penalty for that? Had not Menelaus two children, who should in fairness have been taken before
my daughter, as sprung from the sire and mother who had caused that voyage? Or had Hades some strange desire to feast
on my offspring, rather than on hers? Or had that accursed father lost all tenderness for the children of my womb,
while he was tender to the children of Menelaus? Was not that the part of a callous and perverse parent? I think so,
though differ from thy judgment; and so would say the dead, if she could speak. For myself, then, I view the past
without dismay; but if thou deemest me perverse, see that thine own judgment is just, before thou blame thy
neighbour.

Electra
This time thou canst not say that I have done anything to provoke such words from thee. But, if thou wilt give me
leave, I fain would declare the truth, in the cause alike of my dead sire and of my sister.

Electra
Then I will speak. Thou sayest that thou hast slain my father. What word could bring thee deeper shame than that,
whether the deed was just or not? But I must tell thee that thy deed was not just; no, thou wert drawn on to it by the
wooing of the base man who is now thy spouse.

Ask the huntress Artemis what sin she punished when she stayed the frequent winds at Aulis; or I will tell thee; for
we may not learn from her. My father — so I have heard — was once disporting himself in the grove of the goddess, when
his footfall startled a dappled and antlered stag; he shot it, and chanced to utter a certain boast concerning its
slaughter. Wroth thereat, the daughter of Leto detained the Greeks, that, in quittance for the wild creature’s life, my
father should yield up the life of his own child. Thus it befell that she was sacrificed; since the fleet had no other
release, homeward or to Troy; and for that cause, under sore constraint and with sore reluctance, at last he slew her —
not for the sake of Menelaus.

But grant — for I will take thine own plea — grant that the motive of his deed was to benefit his brother; — was
that a reason for his dying by thy hand? Under what law? See that, in making such a law for men, thou make not trouble
and remorse for thyself; for, if we are to take blood for blood, thou wouldst be the first to die, didst thou meet with
thy desert.

But look if thy pretext is not false. For tell me, if thou wilt, wherefore thou art now doing the most shameless
deeds of all, dwelling as wife with that blood-guilty one, who first helped thee to slay my sire, and bearing children
to him, while thou hast cast out the earlier-born, the stainless offspring of a stainless marriage. How can I praise
these things? Or wilt thou say that this, too, is thy vengeance for thy daughter? Nay, shameful plea, if so thou plead;
’tis not well to wed an enemy for a daughter’s sake.

But indeed I may not even counsel thee, — who shriekest that I revile my mother; and truly I think that to me thou
art less a mother than mistress; so wretched is the life that I live, ever beset with miseries by thee and by thy
partner. And that other, who scarce escaped thy hand, the hapless Orestes, is wearing out his ill-starred days in
exile. Often hast thou charged me with rearing him to punish thy crime; and I would have done so, if I could, thou
mayst be sure:— for that matter, denounce me to all, as disloyal, if thou wilt, or petulant, or impudent; for if I am
accomplished in such ways, methinks I am no unworthy child of thee.

Leader of the Chorus
I see that she breathes forth anger; but whether justice be with her, for this she seems to care no longer.

Clytemnestra [to the Chorus
And what manner of care do I need to use against her, who hath thus insulted a mother, and this at her ripe age?
Thinkest thou not that she would go forward to any deed, without shame?

Electra
Now be assured that I do feel shame for this, though thou believe it not; I know that my behaviour is unseemly, and
becomes me ill. But then the enmity on thy part, and thy treatment, compel me in mine own despite to do thus; for base
deeds are taught by base.

Clytemnestra
Now wilt thou not hush thy clamour, or even suffer me to sacrifice, when I have permitted thee to speak unchecked?

Electra
I hinder not, — begin thy rites, I pray thee; and blame not my voice, for I shall say no more.

Clytemnestra
Raise then, my handmaid, the offerings of many fruits, that I may uplift my prayers to this our king, for deliverance
from my present fears. Lend now a gracious ear, O Phoebus our defender, to my words, though they be dark; for I speak
not among friends, nor is it meet to unfold my whole thought to the light, while she stands near me, lest with her
malice and her garrulous cry she spread some rash rumour throughout the town: but hear me thus, since on this wise I
must speak.

That vision which I saw last night in doubtful dreams — if it hath come for my good, grant, Lycean king, that it be
fulfilled; but if for harm, then let it recoil upon my foes. And if any are plotting to hurl me by treachery from the
high estate which now is mine, permit them not; rather vouch. safe that, still living thus unscathed, I may bear sway
over the house of the Atreidae and this realm, sharing prosperous days with the friends who share them now, and with
those of my children from whom no enmity or bitterness pursues me.

O Lycean Apollo, graciously hear these prayers, and grant them to us all, even as we ask! For the rest, though I be
silent, I deem that thou, a god, must know it; all things, surely, are seen by the sons of Zeus.

[The Paedagogus enters.

Paedagogus
Ladies, might a stranger crave to know if this be the palace of the king Aegisthus?

Leader
It is, sir; thou thyself hast guessed aright.

Paedagogus
And am I right in surmising that this lady is his consort? She is of queenly aspect.

Leader
Assuredly; thou art in the presence of the queen.

Paedagogus
Hail, royal lady! I bring glad tidings to thee and to Aegisthus, from friend.

Clytemnestra
I welcome the omen; but I would fain know from thee, first, who may have sent thee.

Paedagogus
Phanoteus the Phocian, on a weighty mission.

Clytemnestra
What is it, sir? Tell me: coming from a friend, thou wilt bring, I know; a kindly message.

Paedagogus
Orestes is dead; that is the sum.

Electra
Oh, miserable that I am! I am lost this day!

Clytemnestra
What sayest thou, friend, what sayest thou? — listen not to her!

Paedagogus
I said, and say again — Orestes is dead.

Electra
I am lost, hapless one, I am undone!

Clytemnestra [to Electra
See thou to thine own concerns. — But do thou, sir, tell me exactly,-how did he perish?

Paedagogus
I was sent for that purpose, and will tell thee all. Having gone to the renowned festival, the pride of Greece, for the
Delphian games, when he heard the loud summons to the foot-race which was first to be decided, he entered the lists, a
brilliant form, a wonder in the eyes of all there; and, having finished his course at the point where it began, he went
out with the glorious meed of victory. To speak briefly, where there is much to tell, I know not the man whose deeds
and triumphs have matched his; but one thing thou must know; in all the contests that the judges announced, he bore
away the prize; and men deemed him happy, as oft as the herald proclaimed him an Argive, by name Orestes, son of
Agamemnon, who once gathered the famous armament of Greece.

Thus far, ’twas well; but, when a god sends harm, not even the strong man can escape. For, on another day, when
chariots were to try their speed at sunrise, he entered, with many charioteers. One was an Achaean, one from Sparta,
two masters of yoked cars were Libyans; Orestes, driving Thessalian mares, came fifth among them; the sixth from
Aetolia, with chestnut colts; a Magnesian was the seventh; the eighth, with white horses, was of Aenian stock; the
ninth, from Athens, built of gods; there was a Boeotian too, making the tenth chariot.

They took their stations where the appointed umpires placed them by lot and ranged the cars; then, at the sound of
the brazen trump, they started. All shouted to their horses, and shook the reins in their hands; the whole course was
filled with the noise of rattling chariots; the dust flew upward; and all, in a confused throng, plied their goads
unsparingly, each of them striving to pass the wheels and the snorting steeds of his rivals; for alike at their backs
and at their rolling wheels the breath of the horses foamed and smote.

Orestes, driving close to the pillar at either end of the course, almost grazed it with his wheel each time, and,
giving rein to the trace-horse on the right, checked the horse on the inner side. Hitherto, all the chariots had
escaped overthrow; but presently the Aenian’s hard-mouthed colts ran away, and, swerving, as they passed from the sixth
into the seventh round, dashed their foreheads against the team of the Barcaean. Other mishaps followed the first,
shock on shock and crash on crash, till the whole race-ground of Crisa was strewn with the wreck of the chariots.

Seeing this, the wary charioteer from Athens drew aside and paused, allowing the billow of chariots, surging in mid
course, to go by. Orestes was driving last, keeping his horses behind, — for his trust was in the end; but when he saw
that the Athenian was alone left in, he sent a shrill cry ringing through the ears of his swift colts, and gave chase.
Team was brought level with team, and so they raced,-first one man, then the other. showing his head in front of the
chariots.

Hitherto the ill-fated Orestes had passed safely through every round, steadfast in his steadfast car; at last,
slackening his left rein while the horse was turning, unawares he struck the edge of the pillar; he broke the axle-box
in twain; he was thrown over the chariot-rail; he was caught in the shapely reins; and, as he fell on the ground, his
colts were scattered into the middle of the course.

But when the people saw him fallen from the car, a cry of pity went up for the youth, who had done such deeds and
was meeting such a doom, — now dashed to earth, now tossed feet uppermost to the sky, — till the charioteers, with
difficulty checking the career of his horses, loosed him, so covered with blood that no friend who saw it would have
known the hapless corpse. Straightway they burned it on a pyre; and chosen men of Phocis are bringing in a small urn of
bronze the sad dust of that mighty form, to find due burial in his fatherland.

Such is my story, — grievous to hear, if words can grieve; but for us, who beheld, the greatest of sorrows that
these eyes have seen.

Clytemnestra
O Zeus, what shall I call these tidings, — glad tidings? Or dire, but gainful? ’Tis a bitter lot, when mine own
calamities make the safety of my life.

Paedagogus
Why art thou so downcast, lady, at this news?

Clytemnestra
There is a strange power in motherhood; a mother may be wronged, but she never learns to hate her child.

Paedagogus
Then it seems that we have come in vain.

Clytemnestra
Nay, not in vain; how canst thou say ‘in vain,’ when thou hast brought an sure proofs of his death? — His, who sprang
from mine own life, yet, forsaking me who had suckled and reared him, became an exile and an alien; and, after he went
out of this land, he saw me no more; but, charging me with the murder of his sire, he uttered dread threats against me;
so that neither by night nor by day could sweet sleep cover mine eyes, but from moment to moment I lived in fear of
death. Now, however-since this day I am rid of terror from him, and from this girl, — that worse plague who shared my
home, while still she drained my very life-blood,-now, methinks, for aught that she can threaten, I shall pass my days
in peace.

Electra
Ah, woe is me! Now, indeed, Orestes, thy fortune may be lamented, when it is thus with thee, and thou art mocked by
this thy mother! Is it not well?

Clytemnestra
Not with thee; but his state is well.

Electra
Hear, Nemesis of him who hath lately died!

Clytemnestra
She hath heard who should be heard, and hath ordained well.

Clytemnestra
Not so; thy welcome would then be unworthy of me, and of the ally who sent thee. Nay, come thou in; and leave her
without, to make loud lament for herself and for her friends.

[Clytemnestra and the Paedagogus enter the
palace.

Electra
How think ye? Was there not grief and anguish there, wondrous weeping and wailing of that miserable mother, for the son
who perished by such a fate? Nay, she left us with a laugh! Ah, woe is me! Dearest Orestes, how is my life quenched by
thy death! Thou hast torn away with the from my heart the only hopes which still were mine, — that thou wouldst live to
return some day, an avenger of thy sire, and of me unhappy. But now — whither shall I turn? I am alone, bereft of thee,
as of my father.

Henceforth I must be a slave again among those whom most I hate, my father’s murderers. Is it not well with me? But
never, at least, henceforward, will I enter the house to dwell with them; nay, at these gates I will lay me down, and
here, without a friend, my days shall wither. Therefore, if any in the house be wroth, let them slay me; for ’tis a
grace, if I die, but if I live, a pain; I desire life no more.

[The following lines between Electra and the Chorus are chanted responsively.

Chorus

strophe 1

Where are the thunderbolts of Zeus, or where is the bright Sun, if they look upon these things, and brand them not,
but rest?

Electra
Woe, woe, ah me, ah me!

Chorus
O daughter, why weepest thou?

Electra [with hands outstretched to heaven
Alas!

Chorus
Utter no rash cry!

Electra
Thou wilt break my heart!

Chorus
How meanest thou?

Electra
If thou suggest a hope concerning those who have surely passed to the realm below, thou wilt trample yet more upon my
misery.

Chorus

antistrophe 1

Nay, I know how, ensnared by a woman for a chain of gold, the prince Amphiaraus found a grave; and now beneath the
earth —

Electra
Ah me, ah me!

Chorus
— he reigns in fulness of force.

Electra
Alas!

Chorus
Alas indeed! for the murderess —

Electra
Was slain.

Chorus
Yea.

Electra
I know it, I know it; for a champion arose to avenge the mourning dead; but to me no champion remains; for he who yet
was left hath been snatched away.

Chorus

strophe 2

Hapless art thou, and hapless is thy lot!

Electra
Well know I that, too well, — I, whose life is a torrent of woes dread and dark, a torrent that surges through all the
months!

Chorus
We have seen the course of thy sorrow.

Electra
Cease, then, to divert me from it, when no more —

Chorus
How sayest thou?

Electra
— when no more can I have the comfort of hope from a brother, the seed of the same noble sire.

Chorus

antistrophe 2

For all men it is appointed to die.

Electra
What, to die as that ill-starred one died, amid the tramp of racing steeds, entangled in the reins that dragged
him?

Chorus
Cruel was his doom, beyond thought!

Electra
Yea, surely; when in foreign soil, without ministry of my hands, —

Chorus
Alas!

Electra
— he is buried, ungraced by me with sepulture or with tears.

[Chrysothemis enters in excitement.

Chrysothemis
Joy wings my feet, dear sister, not careful of seemliness, if I come with speed; for I bring joyful news, to relieve
thy long sufferings and sorrows.

Electra
And whence couldst thou find help for my woes, whereof no cure can be imagined?

Chrysothemis
Orestes is with us, — know this from my lips, in living presence, as surely as thou seest me here.

Chrysothemis
Well, thou shalt hear all that I have seen. When I came to our father’s ancient tomb, I saw that streams of milk had
lately flowed from the top of the mound, and that his sepulchre was encircled with garlands of all flowers that blow. I
was astonished at the sight, and peered about, lest haply some one should be close to my side. But when I perceived
that all the place was in stillness, I crept nearer to the tomb; and on the mound’s edge I saw a lock of hair, freshly
severed.

And the moment that I saw it, ah me, a familiar image rushed upon my soul, telling me that there I beheld a token of
him whom most I love, Orestes. Then I took it in my hands, and uttered no ill-omened word, but the tears of joy
straightway filled mine eyes. And I know well, as knew then, that this fair tribute has come from none but him. Whose
part else was that, save mine and thine? And I did it not, I know, — nor thou; how shouldst thou? — when thou canst not
leave this house, even to worship the gods, but at thy peril. Nor, again, does our mother’s heart incline to do such
deeds, nor could she have so done without our knowledge.

No, these offerings are from Orestes! Come, dear sister, courage! No mortal life is attended by a changeless
fortune. Ours was once gloomy; but this day, perchance, will seal the promise of much good.

Electra
Alas for thy folly! How I have been pitying thee!

Chrysothemis
What, are not my tidings welcome?

Electra
Thou knowest not whither or into what dreams thou wanderest.

Chrysothemis
Should I not know what mine own eyes have seen?

Electra
He is dead, poor girl; and thy hopes in that deliverer are gone: look not to him.

Chrysothemis
Woe, woe is me! From whom hast thou heard this?

Electra
From the man who was present when he perished.

Chrysothemis
And where is he? Wonder steals over my mind.

Electra
He is within, a guest not unpleasing to our mother.

Chrysothemis
Ah, woe is me! Whose, then, can have been those ample offerings to our father’s tomb?

Electra
Most likely, I think, some one brought those gifts in memory of the dead Orestes.

Chrysothemis
Oh, hapless that I am! And I was bringing such news in joyous haste, ignorant, it seems, how dire was our plight; but
now that I have come, I find fresh sorrows added to the old!

Electra
Hear, then, how I am resolved to act. As for the support of friends, thou thyself must know that we have none; Hades
hath taken our friends away. and we two are left alone. I, so long as I heard that my brother still lived and
prospered, had hopes that he would yet come to avenge the murder of our sire. But now that he is no more, I look next
to thee, not to flinch from aiding me thy sister to slay our father’s murderer, Aegisthus:— I must have no secret from
thee more.

How long art thou to wait inactive? What hope is left standing, to which thine eyes can turn? Thou hast to complain
that thou art robbed of thy father’s heritage; thou hast to mourn that thus far thy life is fading without nuptial song
or wedded love. Nay, and do not hope that such joys will ever be thine; Aegisthus is not so ill-advised as ever to
permit that children should spring from thee or me for his own sure destruction. But if thou wilt follow my counsels,
first thou wilt win praise of piety from our dead sire below, and from our brother too; next, thou shalt be called free
henceforth, as thou wert born, and shalt find worthy bridals; for noble natures draw the gaze of all.

Then seest thou not what fair fame thou wilt win for thyself and for me, by hearkening to my word? What citizen or
stranger, when he sees us, will not greet us with praises such as these? — ‘Behold these two sisters, my friends, who
saved their father’s house; who, when their foes were firmly planted of yore, took their lives in their hands and stood
forth as avengers of blood! Worthy of love are these twain, worthy of reverence from all; at festivals, and wherever
the folk are assembled, let these be honoured of all men for their prowess.’ Thus will every one speak of us, so that
in life and in death our glory shall not fail.

Come, dear sister, hearken! Work with thy sire, share the burden of thy brother, win rest from woes for me and for
thyself, — mindful of this, that an ignoble life brings shame upon the noble.

Leader of the Chorus
In such case as this, forethought is helpful for those who speak and those who hear.

Chrysothemis
Yea, and before she spake, my friends, were she blest with a sound mind, she would have remembered caution, as she doth
not remember it.

Now whither canst thou have turned thine eyes, that thou art arming thyself with such rashness, and calling me to
aid thee? Seest thou not, thou art a woman, not a man, and no match for thine adversaries in strength? And their
fortune prospers day by day, while ours is ebbing and coming to nought. Who, then, plotting to vanquish a foe so
strong, shall escape without suffering deadly scathe? See that we change not our evil plight to worse, if any one hears
these words. It brings us no relief or benefit, if, after winning fair fame, we die an ignominious death; for mere
death is not the bitterest, but rather when one who wants to die cannot obtain even that boon.

Nay, I beseech thee, before we are utterly destroyed, and leave our house desolate, restrain thy rage! I will take
care that thy words remain secret and harmless; and learn thou the prudence, at last though late, of yielding, when so
helpless, to thy rulers.

Leader
Hearken; there is no better gain for mortals to win than foresight and a prudent mind.

Electra
Thou hast said nothing unlooked-for; I well knew that thou wouldst reject what I proffered. Well! I must do this deed
with mine own hand, and alone; for assuredly I will not leave it void.

Chrysothemis
Alas! Would thou hadst been so purposed on the day of our father’s death! What mightst thou not have wrought?

Electra
My nature was the same then, but my mind less ripe.

Chrysothemis
Strive to keep such a mind through all thy life.

Electra
These counsels mean that thou wilt not share my deed.

Chrysothemis
No; for the venture is likely to bring disaster.

Electra
I admire thy prudence; thy cowardice I hate.

Chrysothemis
I will listen not less calmly when thou praise me.

Electra
Never fear to suffer that from me.

Chrysothemis
Time enough in the future to decide that.

Electra
Begone; there is no power to help in thee.

Chrysothemis
Not so; but in thee, no mind to learn.

Electra
Go, declare all this to thy mother!

Chrysothemis
But, again, I do not hate thee with such a hate.

Electra
Yet know at least to what dishonour thou bringest me.

Chrysothemis
Dishonour, no! I am only thinking of thy good.

Electra
Am I bound, then, to follow thy rule of right?

Chrysothemis
When thou art wise, then thou shalt be our guide.

Electra
Sad, that one who speaks so well should speak amiss!

Chrysothemis
Thou hast well described the fault to which thou cleavest.

Electra
How? Dost thou not think that I speak with justice?

Chrysothemis
But sometimes justice itself is fraught with harm.

Electra
I care not to live by such a law.

Chrysothemis
Well, if thou must do this, thou wilt praise me yet.

Electra
And do it I will, no whit dismayed by thee.

Chrysothemis
Is this so indeed? Wilt thou not change thy counsels?

Electra
No, for nothing is more hateful than bad counsel.

Chrysothemis
Thou seemest to agree with nothing that I urge.

Electra
My resolve is not new, but long since fixed.

Chrysothemis
Then I will go; thou canst not be brought to approve my words, nor to commend thy conduct.

Electra
Nay, go within; never will I follow thee, however much thou mayst desire it; it were great folly even to attempt an
idle quest.

Chrysothemis
Nay, if thou art wise in thine own eyes, be such wisdom thine; by and by, when thou standest in evil plight, thou wilt
praise my words.

[Chrysothemis goes into the palace.

Chorus [singing

strophe 1

When we see the birds of the air, with sure instinct, careful to nourish those who give them life and nurture, why
do not we pay these debts in like measure? Nay, by the lightning-flash of Zeus, by Themis throned in heaven, it is not
long till sin brings sorrow.

Voice that comest to the dead beneath the earth, send a piteous cry, I pray thee, to the son of Atreus in that
world, a joyless message of dishonour;

antistrophe 1

tell him that the fortunes of his house are now distempered; while, among his children, strife of sister with sister
hath broken the harmony of loving days. Electra, forsaken, braves the storm alone; she bewails alway, hapless one, her
father’s fate, like the nightingale unwearied in lament; she recks not of death, but is ready to leave the sunlight,
could she but quell the two Furies of her house. Who shall match such noble child of noble sire?

strophe 2

No generous soul deigns, by a base life, to cloud a fair repute, and leave a name inglorious; as thou, too, O my
daughter, hast chosen to mourn all thy days with those that mourn, and hast spurned dishonour, that thou mightest win
at once a twofold praise, as wise, and as the best of daughters.

antistrophe 2

May I yet see thy life raised in might and wealth above thy foes, even as now it is humbled beneath their hand! For
I have found thee in no prosperous estate; and yet, for observance of nature’s highest laws, winning the noblest
renown, by thy piety towards Zeus.

[Orestes enters, with Pylades and two
attendants, one of them carrying a funeral urn.

Orestes
Ladies, have we been directed aright, and are we on the right path to our goal?

Leader of the Chorus
And what seekest thou? With what desire hast thou come?

Orestes
I have been searching for the home of Aegisthus.

Leader
Well, thou hast found it; and thy guide is blameless.

Orestes
Which of you, then, will tell those within that our company, long desired, hath arrived?

Leader
This maiden, — if the nearest should announce it.

Orestes
I pray thee, mistress, make it known in the house that certain men of Phocis seek Aegisthus.

Electra
Ah, woe is me! Surely ye are not bringing the visible proofs of that rumour which we heard?

Orestes
I know nothing of thy ‘rumour’; but the aged Strophius charged me with tidings of Orestes.

Electra
What are they, sir? Ah, how I thrill with fear!

Orestes
He is dead; and in a small urn, as thou seest, we bring the scanty relics home.

Electra
Ah me unhappy! There, at last, before mine eyes, I see that woful burden in your hands

Orestes
If thy tears are for aught which Orestes hath suffered, know that yonder vessel holds his dust.

Electra
Ah, sir, allow me, then, I implore thee, if this urn indeed contains him, to take it in my hands, — that I may weep and
wail, not for these ashes alone, but for myself and for all our house therewith!

Orestes [to the attendants
Bring it and give it her, whoe’er she be; for she who begs this boon must be one who wished him no evil, but a friend,
or haply a kinswoman in blood.

[The urn is placed in Electra’S hands.

Electra
Ah, memorial of him whom I loved best on earth! Ah, Orestes, whose life hath no relic left save this, — how far from
the hopes with which I sent thee forth is the manner in which I receive thee back! Now I carry thy poor dust in my
hands; but thou wert radiant, my child, when I sped the forth from home! Would that I had yielded up my breath, ere,
with these hands, I stole thee away, and sent thee to a strange land, and rescued the from death; that so thou mightest
have been stricken down on that self-same day, and had thy portion in the tomb of thy sire!

But now, an exile from home and fatherland, thou hast perished miserably, far from thy sister; woe is me, these
loving hands have not washed or decked thy corpse, nor taken up, as was meet, their sad burden from the flaming pyre.
No! at the hands of strangers, hapless one, thou hast had those rites, and so art come to us, a little dust in a narrow
urn.

Ah, woe is me for my nursing long ago, so vain, that I oft bestowed on thee with loving toil I For thou wast never
thy mother’s darling so much as mine; nor was any in the house thy nurse but I; and by thee I was ever called ‘sister.’
But now all this hath vanished in a day, with thy death; like a whirlwind, thou hast swept all away with thee. Our
father is gone; I am dead in regard to thee; thou thyself hast perished: our foes exult; that mother, who is none, is
mad with joy, — she of whom thou didst oft send me secret messages, thy heralds, saying that thou thyself wouldst
appear as an avenger. But our evil fortune. thine and mine, hath reft all that away, and hath sent thee forth unto me
thus, — no more the form that I loved so well, but ashes and an idle shade.

Therefore take me to this thy home, me who am as nothing, to thy nothingness, that I may dwell with thee henceforth
below; for when thou wert on earth, we shared alike; and now I fain would die, that I may not be parted from thee in
the grave. For I see that the dead have rest from pain.

Leader
Bethink thee, Electra, thou art the child of mortal sire, and mortal was Orestes; therefore grieve not too much. This
is a debt which all of us must pay.

Orestes
Alas, what shall I say? What words can serve me at this pass? I can restrain my lips no longer!

Electra
What hath troubled thee? Why didst thou say that?

Orestes
Is this the form of the illustrious Electra that I behold?

Electra
It is; and very grievous is her plight.

Orestes
Alas, then, for this miserable fortune!

Electra
Surely, sir, thy lament is not for me?

Orestes
O form cruelly, godlessly misused!

Electra
Those ill-omened words, sir, fit no one better than me.

Orestes
Alas for thy life, unwedded and all unblest!

Electra
Why this steadfast gaze, stranger, and these laments?

Orestes
How ignorant was I, then, of mine own sorrows!

Electra
By what that hath been said hast thou perceived this?

Orestes
By seeing thy sufferings, so many and so great.

Electra
And yet thou seest but a few of my woes.

Orestes
Could any be more painful to behold?

Electra
This, that I share the dwelling of the murderers.

Orestes
Whose murderers? Where lies the guilt at which thou hintest?

Electra
My father’s; — and then I am their slave perforce.

Orestes
Who is it that subjects thee to this constraint?

Electra
A mother-in name, but no mother in her deeds.

Orestes
How doth she oppress thee? With violence or with hardship?

Electra
With violence, and hardships, and all manner of ill.

Orestes
And is there none to succour, or to hinder?

Electra
None. I had one; and thou hast shown me his ashes.

Orestes
Hapless girl, how this sight hath stirred my pity!

Electra
Know, then, that thou art the first who ever pitied me.

Orestes
No other visitor hath ever shared thy pain.

Electra
Surely thou art not some unknown kinsman?

Orestes
I would answer, if these were friends who hear us.

Electra
Oh, they are friends; thou canst speak without mistrust.

Orestes
Give up this urn, then, and thou shalt be told all.

Electra
Nay, I beseech thee be not so cruel to me, sir!

Orestes
Do as I say, and never fear to do amiss.

Electra
I conjure thee, rob me not of my chief treasure!

Orestes
Thou must not keep it.

Electra
Ah woe is me for thee, Orestes, if I am not to give thee burial

Orestes
Hush!-no such word!-Thou hast no right to lament.

Electra
No right to lament for my dead brother?

Orestes
It is not meet for thee to speak of him thus.

Electra
Am I so dishonoured of the dead?

Orestes
Dishonoured of none:— but this is not thy part.

Electra
Yes, if these are the ashes of Orestes that I hold.

Orestes
They are not; a fiction dothed them with his name.

[He gently takes the urn from her.

Electra
And where is that unhappy one’s tomb?

Orestes
There is none; the living have no tomb.

Electra
What sayest thou, boy?

Orestes
Nothing that is not true.

Electra
The man is alive?

Orestes
If there be life in me.

Electra
What? Art thou he?

Orestes
Look at this signet, once our father’s, and judge if I speak truth.

O thou who, after many a year, hast deigned thus to gladden mine eyes by thy return, do not, now that thou hast seen
me in all my woe —

Orestes
What is thy prayer?

Electra
— do not rob me of the comfort of thy face; do not force me to forego it!

Orestes
I should be wroth, indeed, if I saw another attempt it.

Electra
My prayer is granted?

Orestes
Canst thou doubt?

Electra
Ah, friends, I heard a voice that I could never have hoped to hear; nor could I have restrained my emotion in silence,
and without cry, when I heard it.

Ah me! But now I have thee; thou art come to me with the light of that dear countenance, which never, even in
sorrow, could I forget.

[The chant is concluded.

Orestes
Spare all superfluous words; tell me not of our mother’s wickedness, or how Aegisthus drains the wealth of our father’s
house by lavish luxury or aimless waste; for the story would not suffer thee to keep due limit. Tell me rather that
which will serve our present need, — where we must show ourselves, or wait in ambush, that this our coming may confound
the triumph of our foes.

And look that our mother read not thy secret in thy radiant face, when we twain have advanced into the house, but
make lament, as for the feigned disaster; for when we have prospered, then there will be leisure to rejoice and exult
in freedom.

Electra
Nay, brother, as it pleases thee, so shall be my conduct also; for all my joy is a gift from thee, and not mine own.
Nor would I consent to win great good for myself at the cost of the least pain to thee; for so should I ill serve the
divine power that befriends us now.

But thou knowest how matters stand here, I doubt not: thou must have beard that Aegisthus is from home, but our
mother within; — and fear not that she will ever see my face lit up with smiles; for mine old hatred of her hath sunk
into my heart; and, since I have beheld thee, for very joy I shall never cease to weep. How indeed should I cease, who
have seen thee come home this day, first as dead, and then in life? Strangely hast thou wrought on me; so that, if my
father should return alive, I should no longer doubt my senses, but should believe that I saw him. Now, therefore, that
thou hast come to me so wondrously, command me as thou wilt; for, had I been alone, I should have achieved one of two
things, — a noble deliverance, or a noble death.

Orestes
Thou hadst best be silent; for I hear some one within preparing to go forth.

Electra [to Orestes and Pylades
Enter, sirs; especially as ye bring that which no one could repulse from these doors, though he receive it without
joy.

[The Paedagogus enters from the palace.

Paedagogus
Foolish and senseless children! Are ye weary of your lives, or was there no wit born in you, that ye see not how ye
stand, not on the brink, but in the very midst of deadly perils? Nay, had I not kept watch this long while at these
doors, your plans would have been in the house before yourselves; but, as it is, my care shielded you from that. Now
have done with this long discourse, these insatiate cries of joy, and pass within; for in such deeds delay is evil, and
’tis well to make an end.

Orestes
What, then, will be my prospects when I enter?

Paedagogus
Good; for thou art secured from recognition.

Orestes
Thou hast reported me, I presume, as dead?

Paedagogus
Know that here thou art numbered with the shades.

Orestes
Do they rejoice, then, at these tidings? Or what say they?

Paedagogus
I will tell thee at the end; meanwhile, all is well for us on their party-even that which is not well.

Electra
Who is this, brother? I pray thee, tell me. Orestes

Dost thou not perceive?

Electra
I cannot guess.

Orestes
Knowest thou not the man to whose hands thou gavest me once?

Electra
What man? How sayest thou?

Orestes
By whose hands, through thy forethought, I was secretly conveyed forth to Phocian soil.

Electra
Is this he in whom, alone of many, I found a true ally of old, when our sire was slain?

Orestes
’Tis he; question me no further.

Electra
O joyous day! O sole preserver of Agamemnon’s house, how hast thou come? Art thou he indeed, who didst save my brother
and myself from many sorrows? O dearest hands; O messenger whose feet were kindly servants! How couldst thou be with me
so long, and remain unknown, nor give a ray of light, but afflict me by fables, while possessed of truths most sweet?
Hail, father, — for ’tis a father that I seem to behold! All hail, — and know that I have hated thee, and loved thee,
in one day, as never man before!

Paedagogus
Enough, methinks; as for the story of the past, many are the circling nights, and days as many, which shall show it
thee, Electra, in its fulness. [To Orestes and Pylades] But this is my counsel to you twain, who stand there — now is the time to act; now
Clytemnestra is alone, — no man is now within: but, if ye pause, consider that ye will have to fight, not with the
inmates alone, but with other foes more numerous and better skilled.

Orestes
Pylades, this our task seems no longer to crave many words, but rather that we should enter the house forthwith, —
first adoring the shrines of my father’s gods, who keep these gates.

[Orestes and Pylades enter the Palace,
followed by the Paedagogus. — Electra remains outside.]

Electra
O King Apollo! graciously hear them, and hear me besides, who so oft have come before thine altar with such gifts as my
devout hand could bring! And now, O Lycean Apollo, with such vows as I can make, I pray thee, I supplicate, I implore,
grant us thy benignant aid in these designs, and show men how impiety is rewarded by the gods!

Even now the pursuers of dark guilt have passed beneath yon roof, the hounds which none may flee. Therefore the
vision of my soul shall not long tarry in suspense.

The champion of the spirits infernal is ushered with stealthy feet into the house, the ancestral palace of his sire,
bearing keen-edged death in his hands; and Hermes, son of Maia, who hath shrouded the guile in darkness, leads him
forward, even to the end, and delays no more.

[Electra enters from the palace.

Electra

strophe

Ah, dearest friends, in a moment the men will do the deed; — but wait in silence.

Chorus
How is it? — what do they now?

Electra
She is decking the urn for burial, and those two stand close to her

Chorus
And why hast thou sped forth?

Electra
To guard against Aegisthus entering before we are aware.

Clytemnestra [within
Alas! Woe for the house forsaken of friends and filled with murderers!

Chorus
Ill-fated realm and race, now the fate that hath pursued thee day by day is dying, — is dying!

Clytemnestra [within
Oh, I am smitten!

Electra
Smite, if thou canst, once more!

Clytemnestra [within
Ah, woe is me again!

Electra
Would that the woe were for Aegisthus too!

Chorus
The curses are at work; the buried live; blood flows for blood, drained from the slayers by those who died of yore.

[Orestes and Pylades enter from the
palace.

antistrophe

Behold, they come! That red hand reeks with sacrifice to Ares; nor can I blame the deed.

Electra
Orestes, how fare ye?

Orestes
All is well within the house, if Apollo’s oracle spake well.

Electra
The guilty one is dead?

Orestes
Fear no more that thy proud mother will ever put thee to dishonour.

Chorus
Cease; for I see Aegisthus full in view.

Electra
Rash boys, back, back!

Orestes
Where see ye the man?

Electra
Yonder, at our mercy, be advances from the suburb, full of joy.

Chorus
Make with all speed for the vestibule; that, as your first task prospered. so this again may prosper now.

Orestes
Fear not, — we will perform it.

Electra
Haste, then, whither thou wouldst.

Orestes
See, I am gone.

Electra
I will look to matters here.

[Orestes and Pylades go back into the
palace.

Chorus
’Twere well to soothe his ear with some few words of seeming gentleness, that he may rush blindly upon the struggle
with his doom.

[Aegisthus enters.

Aegisthus
Which of you can tell me, where are those Phocian strangers, who, ’tis said, have brought us tidings of Orestes slain
in the wreck of his chariot? Thee, thee I ask, yes, thee, in former days so bold, — for methinks it touches thee most
nearly; thou best must know, and best canst tell.

Electra
I know assuredly; else were I a stranger to the fortune of my nearest kinsfolk.

Aegisthus
Silence, I say, and throw wide the gates, for all Mycenaeans and Argives to behold; that, if any of them were once
buoyed on empty hopes from this man, now, seeing him dead, they may receive my curb, instead of waiting till my
chastisement make them wise perforce!

Electra
No loyalty is lacking on my part; time hath taught me the prudence of concord with the stronger.

[The central doors of the palace are thrown open and a shrouded corpse is disclosed.
Orestes and Pylades stand near it.Aegisthus

O Zeus, I behold that which hath not fallen save by the doom of jealous Heaven; but, if Nemesis attend that word, be
it unsaid!

Take all the covering from the face, that kinship, at least, may receive the tribute of lament from me also.

Orestes
Lift the veil thyself; not my part this, but thine, to look upon these relics, and to greet them kindly.

Aegisthus
’Tis good counsel, and I will follow it. — [To Electra But thou —
call me Clytemnestra, if she is within.

Orestes
Lo, she is near thee: turn not thine eyes elsewhere.

[Aegisthus removes the face-cloth from the corpse.

Aegisthus
O, what sight is this!

Orestes
Why so scared? Is the face so strange?

Aegisthus
Who are the men into whose mid toils I have fallen, hapless that I am?

Orestes
Nay, hast thou not discovered ere now that the dead, as thou miscallest them, are living?

Aegisthus
Alas, I read the riddle: this can be none but Orestes who speaks to me!

Orestes
And, though so good a prophet, thou wast deceived so long?

Aegisthus
Oh lost, undone! Yet suffer me to say one word . . .

Electra
In heaven’s name, my brother, suffer him not to speak further, or to plead at length! When mortals are in the meshes of
fate, how can such respite avail one who is to die? No, — slay him forthwith, and cast his corpse to the creatures from
whom such as he should have burial, far from our sight! To me, nothing but this can make amends for the woes of the
past.

Orestes [to Aegisthus
Go in, and quickly; the issue here is not of words, but of thy life.

Aegisthus
Why take me into the house? If this deed be fair, what need of darkness? Why is thy hand not prompt to strike?

Orestes
Dictate not, but go where thou didst slay my father, that in the same place thou mayest die.

Aegisthus
Is this dwelling doomed to see all woes of Pelops’ line, now, and in time to come?

Orestes
Thine, at least; trust my prophetic skill so far.

Aegisthus
The skill thou vauntest belonged not to thy sire.

Orestes
Thou bandiest words, and our going is delayed. Move forward!

Aegisthus
Lead thou.

Orestes
Thou must go first.

Aegisthus
Lest I escape thee?

Orestes
No, but that thou mayest not choose how to die; I must not spare thee any bitterness of death. And well it were if this
judgment came straight-way upon all who dealt in lawless deeds, even the judgment of the sword: so should not
wickedness abound.

[Orestes and Pylades drive Aegisthus into the palace.

Chorus [singing
O house of Atreus, through how many sufferings hast thou come forth at last in freedom, crowned with good by this day’s
enterprise!

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